


You're Paying

by QQI25



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 13:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16388840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QQI25/pseuds/QQI25
Summary: Peter's a waiter at a 24-hour diner who works from 12a-8a, and there's always this one costumed customer who comes in.Based on a post by symbiote-spideypool on tumblr.*Peter isn't Spider-Man in this universe.*





	You're Paying

Peter’s your average guy. He’s living in a (kind of below) average apartment, trying to pay off student loans, and working a job at a 24-hour diner. Because he’s kind of drifting, he’s willing to take those late, late night/very early morning shifts. He’s a night owl anyway, so really it all ends up working out. The only kind of negative he can see is that the customers he gets because of those hours are really fuckin’ weird. It’s not _bad_ weird, just . . . really fuckin’ weird. 

There’s this one customer he gets that’s always wearing a . . . suit. Costume? It’s red, a dark red, and they’ve come in on various days at all of the hours Peter’s shift is. The people that work other shifts haven’t ever commented on a weird, costumed guy, so Peter guesses they just come at those times of day. They have scars all over the parts of their face exposed when they eat, these angry, red scars that look painful. Sometimes they come in with what Peter’s 99% sure is _blood_ on their suit, but the suit _is_ red, and he’s not so sure he wants to get mixed up in that business in the case that it _is_ , indeed, blood. Even if those aren’t blood, they definitely have blood on them _some_ where, because sometimes they leave stains. But again, not his business. Also, this guy tends to tip really well, and they don’t even write it on the receipt which means Peter doesn’t get taxed on it which means he has more money with which to survive.

The guy’s had off days before. Sometimes they zone out while staring blankly at their meal. Peter’s pretty sure the food is cold by the time they finally eat. But today, today must be a _real_ ly bad day, because today, they come in around 4am and immediately just slump over with their face on the table. 

“Your usual?” Peter asks them. 

“Yeah,” the guy says. Not a “yep” or a “yesserino” or “yepperoni” or anything like that which they usually respond with. Just a plain old “yeah” that sounds extremely defeated. He writes down the order and brings it to the kitchen. There’s no other customers around, so when he gets back to the front, he sits down with the guy. 

“Hey dude, are you okay?” The person lifts their head up. 

“Fine. Just . . . a long day.” This time, instead of setting their whole friggin’ face on the table (which Peter supposed isn’t _too_ dirty, because said face is masked), they put their crossed arms down and nestle their head on their arms. Peter’s not sure whether the guy’s looking at the table, or at Peter. 

“Well . . . you probably know I’m Peter from my nametag. He him.” 

“Wade. He him.” 

“Nice to meet you, Wade.” Wade snorts. 

“Nice to meet you.” 

“So sometimes,” Peter starts, “we have prank wars, even though management says they’re not allowed. Really, we all know management finds it amusing. A popular prank is putting ketchup under the toilet seats so that when you sit, the ketchup kinda explodes, and makes a fart noise. We never do that when we’re open of course, because we don’t wanna scare away customers. _My_ pranks are fairly simple. I’m apparently very sneaky and they never see me coming, so I just. Scoot up behind them and kinda lightly drum my fingers on their necks. It always makes people shriek, and it’s so fucking funny. They’ve taken to calling me “Spider-Man” or “sneaky sonuvabitch”. I like Spider-Man more, though. Sounds like a superhero, or something. 

“Or oh! You know that custom where like, whoever sits at the head of a table pays for a meal? Well this one time in the winter, a family came in around 6 or 7am, and the little baby kid sat at the head of the table and they told him about the rule. So when I came to give them the bill, the little baby kid handed me three whole dollars, very proud and eager while the rest of the family tried not to laugh. Cutest fuckin’ thing ever. There’s this one customer who, instead of leaving money as tips, leaves like, trinkets? Like, I’ve gotten pens and buttons and stamps and stickers and magnets before. Not entirely sure it wasn’t a magpie that had taken on a human form. Oop that’s your order ready. I’ll go get it and be right back.” Peter does as he says, bringing back the pancakes and omelette and bacon. Wade drizzles the syrup over his pancakes. 

“This syrup is horseshit compared to _real_ Canadian maple syrup,” Wade finally says. 

“Oh, is it,” Peter says, amused. 

“Yes! It totally is! When you have Canadian maple syrup, genuine Canadian maple syrup, it changes your life for _ev_ er. It spoils you, really, makes your expectations of syrup too high when you gotta go back to having _this_ shit everywhere you go. And I’m Canadian, so I _know_ my shit when it comes to maple syrup.” He pauses, kinda like he’s surprised he’s talked so much. 

“And what are things like, in Canadia?” Wade laughs abruptly, loudly and sharply, at Peter’s deliberate mispronunciation. Peter smiles, pleased. 

“Things were _great_. Lotsa syrup, lotsa snow, lotsa cold, lotsa very nice people. Honestly, not unlike here, in New York. But don’t tell anyone I said that, because Canada’s got better syrup. Did you know there’s maple syrup lollipops in the shape of maple leaves?”

“I . . . did not know that was a thing.”

“Yep! And, obviously, Canada’s got real Kinder eggs too! Because our people are smarter than Americans.” 

“I haven’t been to Canada, but I definitely agree that Americans are plenty stupid.” They both laugh at that. 

“ _God_ , the food here is _so good_ , and they have the cutest waiters too. You can’t see it, but I’m winking right now.” Peter can feel his face get red, which just makes Wade laugh again. Good. This guy seems like he could use more happiness in his life. 

When Peter goes to get the bill, he also goes to the kitchen to cut a slice of apple pie, adding a dollop of whipped cream on top. He comes back out and goes to Wade’s table. 

“I didn’t order that,” Wade says confusedly. 

“It’s on the house.” 

“Oh Petesy, you’re a goddamned _an_ gel,” Wade says around a mouthful of food. 

Wade gives him the credit card once he’s done and Peter takes it up to the register. He comes back to an empty table, disappointed, and sees the wad of cash. A quick count tells him it’s _$1,000_. This must be a mistake. He rushes out with the cash still in hand. Wade is whistling as he strolls down the street, and Peter runs after him. 

“Hey dude, you left your entire life savings on the table,” Peter says when he’s caught up. Wade laughs. 

“Cute, but that’s _not_ my entire life savings actually.”

“Well whatever. I can’t take this!”

“Sure you can. You’ve already got it in your hands. And I know you’ve probably gotta pay off college loans and debts and shit, so it’s not like it’s going to waste.”

“Yeah, it’s in my hands because I’m _returning it to you_. And it’s not about what I could do with it. Wade, this is too much money. Please, take it back.” He puts it in front of Wade and Wade takes it. And proceeds to hover his hand over the nearest trash can. 

“It’s either going in here, or going with you,” Wade informs him cheerily. He kinda feels like screaming and snatches it back aggressively. 

“Have a nice day,” he says through gritted teeth. 

“Was nicer from the moment I saw you!” 

From then on, his sole goal is to somehow repay him back. He starts with reasoning. 

“You already gave me $1,000. That covers the price of a shitton of meals.”

“Nope. That money was for you, cutie.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Peter says tiredly. 

“Sure thing.”

“And _don’t_ tip me with a shitton of money. $20 max.”

“Sure thing. Then I’ll find another waiter or a cook to give this extra money to.” 

“No, Wade,” Peter hisses. “Stop fucking giving out your money! Keep your damn money, dude!” 

So reasoning . . . gets him nowhere. The next plan is more of an impulse, really. The next time Wade comes in, he brings Wade’s order to the kitchen, as well as his own. When it’s ready, he takes off his nametag, stuffs it in his pocket, and (kind of aggressively) sets the plates down on the table. 

“I didn’t-”

“No you didn’t order this, but _I’m_ taking a break and _I_ ordered it.” 

Peter loosens up and they end up talking again. They have similar sense of humour, so it’s not hard to get along with Wade. His attitude only comes back when Wade tries to pay. 

“No, shut up, this is a date, and _I’m_ paying,” Peter says when Wade reaches for his wallet. 

“Wasn’t gonna say anything.” Still, he rushes away before Wade can stop him. At the table, there’s a napkin with a drawing of two stick figures with a heart between them: a costumed one labelled Wade, and a regular one labelled Peter. He smiles despite himself and keeps it. 

From then on, Peter starts doing that, calling them dates. They sit down, eat together, talk about themselves and other things. Peter pays for the dinners (admittedly usually with the money that Wade gave him) and Wade leaves him drawings on napkins. 

There’s only one time after this all that Peter lets Wade pay. 

“I’m assuming this is a date and you’re paying?” Wade asks when they’re done eating. 

“Yes this can be a date, but you can pay.” Wade’s taken aback. 

“Oh. Okay.” Peter takes Wade’s credit card up to the cash register. When the receipt comes out, he rips it off and writes his number on it. He hands it to Wade, who reads it and looks back up at Peter, smiling. 

“You gave me your number!”

“I mean, it’s only fair, since we’ve been on so many dates.” Wade gets up and hugs Peter tightly. He hugs Wade back. 

“I’ll text you!” Wade calls as he walks out the door. His phone vibrates shortly after Wade walks out. 

**Unknown number**  
_hey petesy it’s ur fave customer!!_

He looks out the window though Wade’s probably far gone by now, and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> normalise saying and/or asking for pronouns!!


End file.
